PS I'm a Ghost
by sojdlgirl
Summary: A year after his disappearance, Ian appears in Amy's house... as a ghost. He wants her to help him solve his murder, while having to be constantly escaping from a group of ghost hunters. And on top of that, they both begin getting a bit too close to each other. But of course, everything will turn out fine for them... right?
1. Chapter 1

Being home alone can be fun... except when you're me, Amy Cahill. And you're sure that there's something weird is going on in your house.

For starters, we've got the perfect spooky atmosphere. It's raining, lightning strikes every second, and the lights keep flickering on and off. To top it off, weird things have been going on: I feel as if someone's breathing down my neck, or a random chill now and then.

It was probably all part of my imagination, of course.

(Right?)

And to convince myself of that, we've got our best friend, the TV. I made sure that all my lights were on before positioning myself comfortably on the sofa. The only way to forget that creepy feeling that's someone's behind you, is to distract yourself watching TV. I continued shuffling through the channels, but nothing seemed to grab my attention. I settled on a Suite Life of Zach and Cody rerun.

Suddenly, everything went dark.

When the lights were on again, I wasn't staring at the TV screen. I was staring at a rain-soaked boy, shivering and gazing at me with pleading eyes.

I dropped the TV remote.

The boy smiled wearily. "Good ev-"

I screamed.

"Calm down, calm down," he begged, holding up his hands.

I kept on screaming, jumping on top of my sofa. I'm not sure what was running through my mind that night, but I quickly grabbed a cushion and threatened the intruder with it. "D-d-d-don't take a step closer! Don't y-you dare!"

"Please, as if that's going to scare me," the guy said, frowning in an amused way.

"Don't you even speak!" I ordered.

"Look-"

"_Freeze!_" I ordered, pointing accusingly at him. "Don't you move."

The boy was too stunned to speak. "Wow..."

I grabbed the phone on the table next to me, not taking my eyes off the guy.

"How long has it been since I've been missing?" the boy mused. "It can't possibly be more than a day... how come your stutter is gone?"

I came to a halt from dialing the second 1 in 9-1-1. I stared at him blankly. "Stutter?"

Amber eyes gazed back at me.

_Familiar_ ones.

My mouth parted open in shock. I quickly placed the phone back on the table shakily, not believing my eyes. "Ian..."

"The one and only," he replied, smirking.

I looked at him up and down, taking in his soaked figure, and somewhat surreal appearance. It was as if you could see he was there, but he wasn't.

"Anyways, you don't know how hard it was to get here," Ian continued, taking a seat on the sofa. "That guy kept chasing me around, and I-"

"Ian," I repeated, not believing that_ the_ Ian Kabra was in front of me.

"Yes?" he asked. His polite smile disappeared. "Though, I don't appreciate you cutting in when I was in the middle of an important narration."

I gulped. "How come... how... Ian, you've been missing for a year now."

Ian's mouth dropped open. "What?"

I could only stare at him in shock.

"No way," he replied. "It's just been a day since then... I know it..."

I could not process the scene that was unfolding in front of me.

"Was that what that lady meant about time not being the same when you're about to cross to the other side?" Ian mused. "So that's why it didn't come as much of a shock... maybe, somehow, that year really did pass, but I didn't..."

As Ian continued with his incoherent and senseless speech, I could only stare. And stare.

I knew what had happened to him.

I knew what I was really seeing.

But I simply couldn't let my brain process it.

"Ian," I cut in once again, holding my breath. "What in the world happened to you?"

Ian looked down, breathing out. He shook his head, staring at his muddy loafers. "I honestly don't know... all I have clear in my mind is that I'm... somehow, the great Ian Kabra has died."

I shut my eyes, falling back on the chair. I massaged my temples, not believing what I was hearing.

"I know this might've come as a huge shock... but I chose to appear in front of you because I know you wouldn't have fainted, or lock yourself up in a looney ward. I can come to that conclusion after seating next to you in nearly every single class," Ian explained, finishing with a chuckle.

"Chose to appear in front of me?" I asked. Everything around me felt as if it was a dream.

"Let me start from the beginning. I guess that I'm too excited from actually getting to see a person whom I've known throughout my entire life, so I'm speaking jibberish," he apologized. He took in a deep breath. As if nothing, the disheveled Ian regained his composure and returned to his usual British-rich-transfer-student self that he was three years ago, when we both were just fourteen-year-old kids.

I nodded, understandingly. Even though I didn't even know what was going on.

"You know I went missing yes-, I mean, a year ago," he begun. "Well, in that span of a time, the angel of death came to pick me up. On the way he explained that I had been murdered. Somehow, someway, it didn't come off as a shock to me. It didn't until I was about to enter the tunn... well, that's another thing you probably won't understand now. Everything came crushing down to me at once. I decided to push back the hurtful consequences of my death, and focus on one thing: my murder. I asked the angel if there was a chance... if there was a way I could return back to Earth and find out who had killed me. The angel agreed. I was immediately sent to an office, where more like me were waiting. When it was finally my turn, I got explained the situation: I only had a limited time. It's all measured in here-" He held up a rose gold wristwatch. "When the arrow rotates twenty-four hours in this, I'm to be sent to the afterlife. It doesn't mean I only have one day... but this clock measures my time like that. Well, they explained that a ghost could solve his or her murder by itself. But it would be more effective with a helper that was... well, _alive_. I immediately thought of you, Amy. And the road to get here wasn't easy, trust me. There's a group out there. They don't have a name, but they work as ghost hunters, you could say. They trap spirits that are still on Earth to experiment on them, or to study them. I was chased by one... one close to our age. Jake, I think? Well, the idiot's name doesn't matter. What matters is that I only have limited time to solve my murder, and on top of that, I have to escape from an imbecile who can't do anything better with his life than chase around gho-"

My eyes rolled back, and as soon as they closed, I fainted.

Ian could only stare at my unconscious body. "Well."

**Just wanted to drop by to tell you this is AU. Other than that, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

My eyes slowly opened. Everything seemed blurry at first, but I could identify the figure of a boy in the kitchen, searching through the refrigerator.

"Dan?" I sleepily asked. I rubbed my eyes, trying to set my vision clearer. "Why are you-" I halted with a gasp, as Ian turned to look at me.

"Oh, you're awake," he said. He stepped away from the refrigerator, motioning to it. "Sorry, it's been a year since I don't eat. Ghosts don't get hungry, but I'd still like a taste of fromage grillé."

I scoffed, not believing my eyes. "What in the world is that?"

"Grilled cheese in French," Ian explained. He licked his lips, adjusting the collar of his polo. "But never mind that. What I need you to be wondering is how we'll begin solving my murder. You were out for an hour... one precious hour that could've helped us!"

"Your watch hasn't probably even moved," I said, sitting up. "So you have nothing to worry about. Plus, who said I'm gonna help you?"

Ian looked surprise. "What?"

"Look, juggling between schoolwork, working as a waitress, and being the school's volleyball team leader-"

"_You?_" Ian asked, clearly not believing it. He chuckled. "You expect me to believe, that you, Amy Cahill, are a volleyball player?"

I frowned in confusion.

"It's probably different in other schools, but you know how people see the volleyball players: popular, outgoing, and good-looking," Ian continued. "And I'm sorry, but you're neither of those."

My eyebrows shot upwards. "What?"

"I don't mean to offend. But you do need a reality check," Ian finished.

I stood up. "Do you even- who says I'm not popular?"

"You don't look popular," Ian answered.

I stared blankly at him. Then I began to laugh.

Ian only kept staring at me.

"Okay, mister, _you_ need a reality check," I began, pointing at him with an amused smile on my face. "I got into the volleyball team because the coach thought I was good enough to be in it, not because I was popular, good-looking, or outgoing. And all my team members are in the team because of the same exact reason, too."

Ian sighed, pitifully. "That's the good thing about rich people. We do admit a foul play now and then."

My smile disappeared. Storming toward him, I grabbed him by the suit-

"Hey, what are you doing?" he demanded.

-and pushed him toward the door. "I don't even need to open the door, since you're a ghost, right?"

"Wait, no-"

And so, I pushed him through the door. Except that not so much through. More like into, because his head bumped with it and he fell back on his butt.

"When I'm visible... even if it's just to one person, I can't go through matter," he explained, rubbing his forehead.

I opened the door, pulled him upwards, and pushed him outside. "I don't care!"

And I slammed the door shut.

I stared at the doorknob for awhile. Had I overreacted? I sighed, opening the door once more. Ian was smirking at me.

"I knew you'd open that door once more," he told me. He stepped inside my house with great air, looking around.

I closed the door behind him. I was about to motion him to seat, when I realized he was already seated.

"Would you happen to have some darjeeling tea?" he asked. "Oh, and a pack of ice, please. I don't want to bruise."

"We don't have darjeeling tea, but we do have Lipton," I informed as I looked through the kitchen pantry.

Ian's eyes narrowed. "What do you take me for?"

I looked back at him, stuffing the Lipton bottle back in the refrigerator. "I was kidding."

"Good. I'd expect you to have more common sense than that," he said. He grabbed the book I was reading. Gazing at the cover, he nodded in approval. "This is a classic."

"It is?" I asked, serving him water instead.

"The 39 Clues! Of course it is," he continued, flipping through the pages. "I can identify so much with the character... erm, what's the British one's name?"

"Indiana?" I supplied, walking to the living room.

"Yes!" Ian exclaimed, delighted. "That's why Amelia's little brother, Denver, always called him Indiana Jones-"

"And he hated Indiana Jones so he always took offense," I finished, smiling. I set the glass of water on the table and handed him the pack of ice. "Never thought you'd be reading those books."

"Of course I do! I love Indiana. He's so... insightful and humble-"

I gazed at him, not sure about that part.

"We're so alike," he continued, sipping water. "Except that neither my parents are looneys."

"That's why you're the looney one," I murmured, sitting next to him.

"Excuse me, I couldn't quite catch that?"

"No, I was saying that you are quite like him," I replied, nodding.

Ian grinned smugly, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know."

I smiled, looking down at my hands. "Well, changing topics... I was wondering about that thing of invisible and visible mode?"

"Of course," Ian replied.

"Alright, so you choose when you want to be either?" I clarified.

"That's right."

"So... say," I began, trying to find a way to word out my worries. "You can enter a... a random girl's room, while she's... you know, doing whatever. Reading, drawing, sleeping... _changing._ And she'll never know?"

Ian set the glass of water down. He slowly turned to look at my face, which I tried to have it with an innocent expression.

"Amy, if I were to spy in a girl changing," he began. "What would that make me?"

"Oh, I'm not saying that it necessarily has to be you or that she necessarily has to be changing," I replied, chuckling. "That's just... one of the many, _many_ case scenarios."

"What would that make me?" he repeated, staring seriously into my green eyes.

"A perverted stalker," I meekly replied, looking away.

He pointed at me. "Ding! Ding! Ding!"

I pursed my lips, looking down.

"I am not a perverted stalker," Ian furthered on. "In fact, it's probably the other way around. People try to spy on _me_ changing!"

I nodded, playing along.

"And I know it was just wishful thinking-"

I gaped in horror at him. "_What?_"

"But I'll take offense. Nobody has ever degraded me to such a level!" he continued. He turned to look at me. "And the only way you could make it up for me is to help me out."

I stared at him blankly.

"It's the only way," he repeated, nodding.

I sighed, inspecting him. His eyes looked pleading. He was clearly desperate. I couldn't understand what he's going through, but I could imagine. Just because one person decided to do so, his life was over. He wouldn't grow up. He'd stay seventeen forever. No graduation, no job, no family of his own... nothing. And if I were him, I'd certainly like to at least know who killed me and why. And yes, Ian might be a usual rich boy at times. But he was a good guy. He didn't —_no one_, deserved to be murdered.

"Of course I'll help you," I stated. "I'll do the best I can."


	3. Chapter 3

_Ghost hunter._

"No, _Jake_ ghost hunter," Ian corrected, pointing at my laptop's screen. "It won't show up like that if you only type those words."

Wordlessly, I added Jake's name before the two other terms. "Okay like this?"

"Perfecto," he replied, translating perfect to spanish.

I clicked search. After a second, all the results were completely loaded. We scrolled down, quickly skimming through the titles.

"Aren't they secret? You said they have no name," I said, clicking on the second page to see more search results.

Ian cleared his throat. "They do..."

"Then why didn't you tell me before?" I asked, frowning.

Ian gazed out the window. It was a beautiful Saturday morning. In winter, of course. The sky was a light blue, and everything was covered with snow. I really did enjoy the view. But Ian, as pretty as it could be, looked as if he wanted to re-kill himself.

"I only paid attention to the part where she explained there was a group that would follow me around," Ian muttered.

"What?" I squeaked, turning to look back at him.

"I said that I only-"

"I heard what you said," I cut in, my eyes wide. "But why?"

"She was wearing a hideous, neon pink sweater!" Ian exclaimed. "She was saying more, but that thing... that thing she called a sweater was simply horrendous."

My mouth dropped wide open in shock.

"It was distracting," he continued justifying himself.

"You realize that the piece of information that the lady was giving you was extremely important for you. Once the watch stops, you'll be gone... forever! And you could only care about a sweater?" I accused, scoffing at the end of my sentence.

Ian blinked. He looked down. "Forever... I don't really like to think that. The rest of my family will sometime come along, right?"

I was taken aback by my outburst, realizing that I should've been more sensible. I gazed at him. He was trying to hide it, but I'm sure he was deeply saddened that he would never be coming back here as a person. I've never been too close to him, but I still felt extremely horrible just to think of the position he was in. I sighed, calming myself down.

"We'll find out about it," I promised him. I blinked, swallowing hard. "Just, let's just... did the chaser introduce himself or did you know his name by some... _supernatural_ way?"

Ian grinned. "Amy, please. I'm just a ghost. Nothing else. I found out because he told me."

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked, smiling triumphantly. "That means that he said something else while he was introducing himself! That might give us a clue to what he belongs to, Ian."

"I know that. But I didn't really mind sharing it because it was nothing important," Ian told me. "He only said some incomprehensible jibberish (the rain was quite loud). I could only understand 'I'm Jake' and 'don't run away'."

"Well, did you see what he looked like? Or something he was wearing?" I continued questioning.

"There were two things I noticed: he had glasses on. They looked like normal ones, but I'm sure those are the reason why he could see me. The other one was a logo on his shirt... I couldn't see it quite clearly, I mean, I can't even remember his face! But I'm sure it was an old-fashioned pocket watch. However, instead of numbers, it had letters... I think. I mean, they didn't seem like numbers-"

I gasped, not believing how easy it had all turned out to be. "Letters! Of course! I know where that logo is from."

Ian's eyes widened, hope reflecting from them. "You do? You do!"

I grinned, nodding in excitement. "It's the Rosenblooms logo! They own a library a few streets from here. They have a showcase of old books, and archaeological findings. They also have an amazing selection of books with old tales, encyclopedias, and cultural-"

"I don't care what they sell. I just want to know what they are," Ian cut in.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, smiling meekly. "Of course... I just, I've gone to that library a million times." I swiveled back my rotating chair and quickly opened my facebook page. On the search bar I typed _Mark Rosenbloom_. "I know he has two sons. Maybe one of them is that Jake guy?"

"Search for 'Jake' in the friend list then," Ian said, inching closer to the screen.

I quickly typed 'Jake'. Three results popped up.

"Jake Rosenbloom," Ian and I announced in unison, grinning triumphantly. I quickly clicked his name, to be redirected to his page. Then realization dawned on me. "Oh no... that means that one of the people I've admired throughout my life is a bad guy."

Ian patted my shoulder. "Not anyone can handle the truth."

"But how can he be a bad guy? I mean, he's the definition of good! I've even met him personally, and he just... well, he told me that he'd support my dream of becoming an archaeologist, even if none of my family members did," I finished in a sad note, biting my lower lip.

"I thought you wanted to be a doctor?" Ian asked, frowning.

I sighed, looking at him uneasily. "Of course I do... Aunt Beatrice did say it would be an amazing career. It's just... well, never mind."

"You aunt is known to be very strict. Is she, by chance, forcing you to become a doctor?" Ian asked.

I chuckled. "Of course not! She was just the one who suggested it. You know what? Let's forget about my aunt and my path in life, and let's stalk this dude."

"What dude?"

I gasped, turning to look back. Nellie was standing on the entrance of my room, holding a platter of cookies.

"Who are you even talking to-" she stopped once she saw the screen. "Jake Rosenbloom! Oh my God!" And so, she began to laugh.

I briefly glanced at Ian before turning to look back at her cackling figure.

"Don't worry, she can't hear or see me," he assured.

"I know that," I murmured.

"Huh?" Nellie breathed out, regaining her composure from her previous outburst.

"I... I was just wondering how you knew him?" I asked.

She set the plate of cookies next to my computer, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Why? Interested in him?"

"No!" I exclaimed, my cheeks involuntarily turning red. "I just want to know how you know him."

"I'll just forget the fact that his facebook page is in your screen and answer your question-"

I quickly closed the page, garnering a small smile from her part.

"Well, we're both part of the cooking classes downtown. He makes an exelent spaghetti carbonara... your favorite, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"I could introduce you two. He is just two years older, not much of a difference. Plus, his dad is a big role model of yours, right? _The_ Mark Rosenbloom."

"Nellie-"

"It was time you had a boyfriend... a crush by that matter. The last time you liked a boy was when you were fourteen, right? And was it that English dude? Ian Kabra?"

I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head.

"Yeah, I knew it!" Ian exclaimed, laughing. "I knew you liked me back then! You probably still do."

"Nellie," I begun, but immediately stopped myself. I smiled, an idea popping in my head. "Of course you can introduce me! But... that will be when I join cooking classes."

"You're joining with me?" Nellie asked, a smile hinting in her lips.

"I'd love to," I replied, smiling back.

"Swell!" she exclaimed, grinning. "Enjoy your cookies while I give Chef Alistair a call, alright?"

"I promise," I replied, handing her thumbs up.

Once she was out of the room, I quickly closed the door and turned to look at Ian. I scowled at his smirking face. "I don't like you anymore."

He crossed his arms, nodding. "Whatever you say."

"Whatever," I muttered, returning to my seat. I gazed at him. "Anyways. I'll see if I can get him to talk about ghosts or something of that sort... or simply just observe him well in classes. Also, maybe you should walk around places you know and investigate. It's been a year, but the one responsible might still be talking about it. I don't know... just, snoop around."

"With the Rosenblooms in my heels? I'll definitely not go alone," Ian replied. He pointed at me. "You're coming with me."

I pouted, groaning. "Seriously? It's Saturday. My day off at both school and work!"

"But you're coming," he said. "Most importantly, you're taking me to my house."


End file.
